Fourteen Years
by LordsBecca
Summary: Sirius can either open the door, or turn back. Whichever he chooses will change his life, and hers, forever...


TITLE: Fourteen Years  
AUTHOR: Becca  
E-MAIL: lordsbecca@yahoo.com   
WEBSITE: http://www.swishandflick.net  
  
CATEGORY: Angst/Romance  
RATING: G  
ARCHIVE: I usually have no objection, but   
only if you let me know first ;)  
  
SUMMARY: He can either open the door,   
or turn back. Whichever he chooses will   
change his life, and hers, forever...  
  
**DISCLAIMER: Heh, these characters are   
*so* not mine. Danka to JK, WB, and   
publishers for letting me borrow them   
temporarily. Actually, the person who has   
no name in this story and is represented with   
feminine pronouns is mine. So NANNERZ!   
  
^*^*^  
  
The oak door beckoned to him with such strength, he felt like vomiting. Nothing had ever held so   
much power over him before, besides the thing that lay beyond the door. Everything from the soft   
fingers which would caress his face sweetly, to her glistening black hair that always smelled of   
rosemary would cause his stomach to tighten when he saw her. He couldn't even begin to imagine   
what he would feel when seeing after fourteen years....  
  
She was a witty Ravenclaw who had been assigned to tutor him in astronomy. Her knowledge of   
everything cosmic had caused little balls of fire to dance around inside a little galaxy of his own.   
And after becoming a bit more then best friends, which was bound to happen when a boy and girl   
are alone late at night in the highest tower of a school, they had decided that no matter what, they'd   
stay together.  
  
Little did they know what could separate them.   
  
Alone in his cell, he was thinking of her when Peter did not fill his mind. And he was far from   
happy when thinking of her. He had let her down. She thought he was a murderer. But she must   
know better, she must know....  
  
He ran his shaking fingers through his freshly cut hair. He refused to get it cut as it once had been   
before the prison, for he had gotten used to feeling it tickle his neck and ears. He just had Remus   
trim it to get rid of the split, frizzing ends, because he knew that she enjoyed clean, perfect hair. He   
wondered what her reaction to his long hair would be: if she'd run her hands through it as she had   
with his short hair, or would demand that it be shaved off....  
  
From the tips of his hair, he moved down to his button down, collared shirt, colored a gorgeous   
cornflower blue. She had bought him the shirt sixteen years ago, because she knew the color would   
make his eyes glow. And it had: even Remus, as straight as he was, said he looked hot.  
  
Down to his khaki pants. The pressed lines were irritatingly perfect to someone who escaped from   
prison in ripped pants and a soiled shirt. He adjusted his brown belt buckle and smoothed his   
tucked-in shirt over and over again. He lifted his left foot and checked to make sure his laces were   
tied and not a speck of dirt was showing on his new brown shoes. He then checked his right foot   
and happily put it down, satisfied. He personally thought he looked...stupid...but Remus insisted   
that she would gasp, drool, and *then* pass out. He just kept telling himself that this was all for her.  
  
It was all for her.  
  
He took a look at his surroundings. A quaint little neighborhood of witches and wizards, with trees,   
gardens...her garden was full of tulips. He remembered she was Dutch, and was willing to tell that   
little piece of information to anyone who would listen. If there had been a Dutch pride award, she   
would have won it in a second. He, of course, had harassed her about it but she would laugh, kiss   
him, and all he was left to say was that the Dutch were the best damn kissers this side of the pond.   
He couldn't help but reach out and touch one of the delicate tulips. He felt its petals and was   
reminded of its planter's soft skin....  
  
Fourteen years had seemed longer to him in that second than it had ever before. How long it had   
been since he had kissed her and held her....  
  
And how long it had been since *she* held *him*. The thought of how lonely she must have been   
for the past years made his stomach plummet. To have something she loved so much just pulled   
away....   
  
But what if she never felt the loneliness he felt? Fourteen years was an efficient amount of time to   
find someone else. Find someone who would never leave her. Perhaps another man was with her at   
that moment, loving her in a way only he thought he could....  
  
....And told someone she loved so much had done such a terrible thing. He suddenly felt as though   
the wind had been knocked out of him. What if she really did think he had murdered those   
Muggles? What if she hated him? Or worse...*feared* him? He thought the world was spinning   
around him, and wanted to sit down and force the thoughts out of him.   
  
He looked at his hands. He had tried hard to get the paleness out, but it seemed that the prison had   
engraved itself into them. They were white and thin, and shaking. They were not the same hands   
that had once stroked her angelic face those many years ago. And he was not the same man who had   
ached without her figure next to his.   
  
Looking back at her door, he dropped his hands into his pockets and sighed. He was joking himself   
when he thought he could do this. It could not-rather, *should not* be done. Steel gray eyes were   
covered in salty tears, and soon his cheeks were soaked.  
  
"Goodbye, Belle," he softly whispered.   
  
He then turned around....  
  
....And walked away.  
  
^*^*^  
13th use of Dragon's Blood: Poison for readers who don't review.  
Be nice. Review for me. 


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